“Exactly.”
“There’s money in it for you, too.”
“I don’t want it.” He laughed. She liked him less. “Why is that funny?”
“It’s not. Not really,” he said. “But it’s exactly the kind of thing a girl like you would say.”
She blinked. “A girl like me.”
“The money doesn’t matter to you, because you have never had to worry about it.”
Irritation flared, and a tiny bit of disappointment that he, too, thought of her as Alice Storm Inc. “Not that I should have to explain it, but when I moved out of his apartment, he cut me off. Killed all my accounts. I pay my own way now, Jack. No sailboats. No helicopters. No private island.”
“Watching roaches climb the wall, huh?”
She didn’t miss the reference. Knew the next line of the song about the poor little rich girl. Resisted the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. “I was never going to call him to come rescue me.”
“He still pays your siblings’ bills.”
“Yes. And they let him dictate the terms of their lives. When I say my father wanted control, I mean he was furious when we crossed him. And he punished me the only way he knew how.”
“He took the money away.”
She shook her head. “That was the easy part. Honestly, considering my age, it was long past time for that. He should have done that for all of us—and maybe we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats thinking about inheriting instead of grieving our father.” A pause. Then, “It wasn’t the money. It was the access.
“He took it all. And he took all of them, too.” She was lost in thought for a moment, the memories of the months after he’d exiled her, waiting for someone to reach out. No one had, not for months. “They chose him. He made sure of it.”
He shifted, and for the first time since they’d met, Jack seemed uncomfortable.
“So you can see why they’d be concerned that I might leave. Because they know I can survive. But they don’t want to discover whether or not they can.”
“You do want to find out, though. If they can survive the consequences of you leaving.”
“No. I don’t want them to have nothing. I want—” She paused. Turned the shell over in her hand, running her thumb over the smooth inside, thinking about mixing paint there, blues of the sky and the sea. She searched for the right words. “I want them to want me to stay.”
I want them to want me back.
But was that even it? Did family ever feel right once you’d left? Maybe Thomas Wolfe was right. Maybe you couldn’t ever go home again.
God, death was so weird. And having this man around, with hissculpted jaw and his stern looks and his tattoos and his ability to sail did not make it any less weird. In fact, he definitely made it more weird. As though the underpainting of a watercolor was wrong.
For the record, an attraction to your dead father’s second-in-command was definitely bad underpainting.
Alice took a deep breath and looked out toThe Lizzie,perfectly anchored in the distance, freedom and a trap. A thought occurred. “Didn’t I break the rules?”
“What?” The question was curt, like he’d been lost in thoughts he wasn’t going to share with her.
“I’m not supposed to leave the island.” She indicated the boat with a tilt of her chin. “Isn’t that what my dad decreed?”
Jack followed her attention. “I figured the boat didn’t count. It’s basically the island. I knew you liked to sail.” He’d said it before, but this time was different. Softer. Less damning. With a hint of something that she might like if he were the kind of person she could like. “That, and you’re with me.”
He closed the distance until there was nothing but the two of them and the wind, and the smell of the sea and this place that she loved so much. His advance shouldn’t feel so good. It should feel dangerous and contrived. Threatening. And whatever it was, she shouldn’tshowhim how good it felt. Shedefinitelyshouldn’t let him reel her in like a well-weighted line.
But he was excellent bait. And what was the worst thing that could happen?
It was already happening, of course. She was already imagining that it wasn’t bait.
She tilted her face up to meet his gaze and lied. “What if I don’t want to be with you?”